


These Games We Play

by Hashtagmavin



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: But heavy discussions of death, Fluff, M/M, No Character Death, Old men AU, Reminiscing, Takes place in a hospital but only because of a broken leg, The Game of Life, Very brief mentions of sex and sexual acts in strange places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:43:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3356345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hashtagmavin/pseuds/Hashtagmavin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Old men AU) Michael and Gavin have spent their entire lives together, and Michael knows the perfect way to look back and reminisce over the memories they've made over the years. Even if it's incredibly cheesy and lame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Games We Play

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at Hashtagmavin.tumblr.com
> 
> This was something that was on my jumpdrive for a long time, it was unfinished and I didn't think I'd ever really end up doing anything with it. But, I stayed up late last night to finish it just so that it could be a short thing to post on Valentines Day (aka, the anniversary of mavin) <3   
> Sorry that it's actually really shitty and rushed?

Michael isn't entirely sure when he and Gavin had gotten "old."

He wouldn't be able to pinpoint the exact moment when they could be considered elderly and way past their prime.

It's every young couples dream to grow old and happy together, and of course Michael and Gavin wanted that too. They just didn't think they would achieve it so quickly.

They'd met as young children. New next door neighbors after Gavin's family moved to New Jersey. Michael made fun of him for his accent and big nose, Gavin made fun of him for his curly hair and tendency to shout without realizing it. They'd been inseparable ever since.

They were best friends through elementary, started dating in high school, moved in together immediately after graduation, and had gotten married only three years after that. People would always describe them as being the perfect couple. It'd be impossible to see one without the other. They were always laughing, or joking and making fun of one another.

They'd gotten a dog first. A dopey little puppy that was too energetic for it's own good and would often stumble and trip over it's own paws in it's desire to be everywhere at once.

Then they'd adopted children. First was Barbara, then Kara, and then finally Chris. Their little babies that seemed to grow up much too quickly for their own good. Now they're all out on their own, getting married and having their own babies. But neither Gavin or Michael are complaining about that. Sneaking money and candy to grandchildren is some of the most fun you can have. And now that they're both living in that house alone for the first time since Barbara came around, they were not opposed to having extra intimacy room.

Michael still wakes up every morning to his beautiful husband's face, just silently laying there and watching him sleep for a few extra moments. And then will quietly begin to pepper Gavin's face with little kisses, leaving no place unmarked with his lips.

It still gives Michael butterflies when his eyes groggily open and reveal their beautiful color. Then his lips turn up in that familiar smirk, and he'll whine out, "Five more minutes."

But then get up anyways so that they can start breakfast.

It's routine.

Michael never imagined himself being one of those married men that could tolerate waking up every morning to the same thing over and over again, but he wouldn't want it any other way. He doesn't even want to think about the fact that Gavin might not be there one morning to wake up with chaste kisses to the wrinkles decorating his face.

He's actually refused to think about it until now. Because for the first time in over fifty years, Michael's had to wake up alone.

Gavin's had to spend the last few days in the hospital. Nothing serious, he'll be out within a couple days, but it still terrifies him. Being away from his husband with the over looming fear that he needs to be in the hospital in the first place is a haunting thought to begin with.

It only ends up feeding him with worry and guilt.

Worry because this could be the beginning. Right now it's just a broken leg, but then more things will happen and he'll have to stay in constant care longer. Then he could be hooked up to those ridiculous beeping machines and be in pain all of the time. And it's just scary to think about any of that happening to his Gavin, who's always so carefree about things like this.

Guilt because he's only ever let Gavin worry about his health. He's never paid but attention to the fact that Gavin may have actually had a stroke once in his early twenties, allegedly can't feel the left side of his cheek, and would never force the man to go get checked out if something seemed wrong. It was always brushed off so easily with shrugs or bad jokes and laughter.

Michael isn't a fool. He knows that they don't have much time left. They're seventy for goodness sake. But, and maybe it's selfish of him, he doesn't want to be the one left alone. He'd rather himself be the one to kick the bucket first, because he isn't sure he could tolerate living in a world without Gavin anymore.

And no, not in that ridiculous Romeo and Juliet way. They've just been together for  _so_  long that he can't even remember the times in his life where Gavin wasn't with him. He doesn't want to remember what it feels like to be alone and on your own with nobody there constantly at your side.

Even in middle school, when they were just best friends, they were always there for one another. Losing Gavin as a husband is terrifying enough, but it would be devastating to lose him as a best friend as well.

But these are all concerns for a different day. It isn't the time to be worrying about dying or spending the rest of his life alone. Gavin is in the hospital, not for anything serious, but it's time to stop being a selfish asshole and go comfort his husband.

Michael should have known better than to assume that his husband would need comforting.

After a few days of visiting Gavin in the hospital, it was quite clear that he was perfectly okay and not really in any pain at all. He'd be sitting up, slightly bouncing with excitement at seeing his husband.

"Michael!" he cries out eagerly, "I've been waiting all day for you!"

"Oh yeah? Been boring here without me?"

"Of course," he rolls his eyes, "The nurses sometimes come in to talk to me, but it's always just dull conversation to pass the time."

"Being in the hospital for three days has not changed the fact that you're a major asshole, I see," Michael grins, walking over and pressing a kiss to Gavin's forehead. Now that he's finally got to greet him with a kiss, it finally feels like the day has started (despite it being four o'clock.)

"You know what I mean," he justifies, "It's all just overly friendly talk and trying to get on my good side so that I won't be one of those rebellious patients that refuses to take medicines and all that nonsense. They're all so boring. I'm desperate for some actual fun."

"I could get a wheelchair and run around the hospital with you in it, if you want," Michael suggests with a smirk.

"Sounds perfect," Gavin smiles, and then his eyes shift down to look at the box in Michael's hands, "What's that?"

"What's what?" he mocks, pretending to look around the room to find what Gavin's talking about.

Gavin rolls his eyes, but his grin gives him away, "In your hands, ya' dope!"

"Oh! You mean this?" he says, and finally holds up the box, revealing the front of it.

He'd worked long and hard on this tiny project, bringing their large family (consisting of their three children and the small herd of grandchildren) together again to shoddily re-make an old childhood board game.

Gavin laughs out loud when he sees it, but still doesn't quite understand what it is. Well, he does, but is unable to make sense of it.

It's the board game "Life." The colorful letters spell out the title across the top, decorated with glitter, stickers, and marker scribbles. The characters all have heads too big for their bodies but, instead of seeing their cheesy grins and bright faces like the game box-top usually features, somebody has covered them with cut-out photos. Specifically photos of people they know.

The couple sitting in the car have become Gavin and Michael themselves, almost looking like silly bobble-heads. The other characters on the box feature their children with their individual spouses. Tape keeps the cut out photos securely in place, making the entire thing look even more like a child's craft, but it adds homemade charm.

"What is it?"

"It's Life. The board game."

"Yeah," he smiles, leaning in a little closer to get a better look, "I got that. But what did you do to it?"

"Well, since you're in the hospital, I've been thinking a lot about  _our_  life, and how it's almost over."

Gavin playfully scowls, "You know that's not true. I'm only in right now because of this stupid broken leg. And I'm only stuck here on a bed rest because they don't trust an old fart like me to take it easy for the next few days. I'm going to be fine. We've got a long time until anything about  _us_  is over."

"Shut up, don't break my sentiments."

"Alright, continue," he agrees, failing horribly at keeping a straight face. Luckily though, Michael looks to be moments away from laughing himself.

"So, I decided that I'd recreate Life to represent ours. Kind of like our own version of the board game we'd play together as kids."

Gavin raises an eyebrow but accepts the box once Michael hands it over to him. He rests it onto the hospital bed sheets in front of him, pulling off the cardboard cover. There's no way Michael redesigned an entire game just for him, that would be ridiculous.

He lets out a gasp when he unfolds the actual game board.

It's (almost crudely) remade. The little tiles that your car drives across have been covered over with construction paper. He can tell it's Michael handwriting on them, each tile holding a memory or event in their lives.

The board is even more colorful than the original, Michael had clearly taken extra care into using as many different shades of construction paper as he could.

Even from here, he can only slightly pick out what some of the tiles say. Only the ones with larger writer on them though, his eyesight isn't what it used to be, after all.

 _"Adopted a Barbara"_  one reads, printed neatly in pink marker.

Clearly referencing the day they'd been informed that their request to adopt had been accepted and they had officially become parents to the giggly blonde toddler they'd absolutely fallen in love with upon meeting. Michael still remembers Gavin screaming with joy and calling as many people as he could while jumping up and down on the couch. "We adopted a Barbara!" he shouted while on the phone with Geoff, too hyped to even realized that his sentence wasn't grammatically correct.

Gavin throws his head back with laughter, both at the memory and at the trouble Michael has gone through to make such a sappy (yet adorable) gift.

"You're ridiculous!" he accuses, pointing a finger at his husband.

"Maybe so, but I thought it would be a good way to look back. We are in a hospital after all, and the idea of death has been in my mind for the past few days. So, what better way to get it out than to celebrate... Life.  _Our_  life."

"You are  _so_  cheesy."

"I get it, I'm ridiculous, I'm cheesy, get over it," Michael grins, "You've been married to me for almost fifty years now. You can't be caught off guard by this shit anymore."

"That doesn't mean I'm not going to call it out when I see it."

"Oh, shut up. We used to play this game all of the time, you can't go complaining about it now."

"Yeah, when we were in elementary school."

"Back in the days when you were still the little British idiot that lived next door."

"Yes, and you loved me," Gavin teases, resulting in his husband sticking out his tongue in retaliation. He ignores it though, and looks down at the board. "Man, it must have been ages since we've last played this, but I can still remember arguing about it as though it were yesterday."

"There were only arguments because you didn't understand the rules."

"You win by retiring first!" Gavin practically shouts, the old fight easily riling them up the same way it used to when they were kids.

"The winner was the one with the most money at the end, and I clearly had the most every single time."

"Where's the instructions for this damn game? Did you bring them along?"

"Of course I didn't bring them along! And even if I did, you always ripped them or one of us ending up throwing it at the other."

"We've never fought much, but I'd say most of our fights have been over the Game of Life instructions."

"It's serious business," Michael grins.

"True," he smirks. Looking down at the board again, he runs it's finger across it's surface. Entertained by feeling the rough construction paper and the glossy scotch tape holding each piece in place.

"Did you make this yourself?"

"Of course. You don't think I'd do this shittily of a job all on my own, do ya'?"

"Who helped you?"

"Barbara, Kara, Chris, and all of their brats."

That gets Gavin's attention, and he looks up from the board in shock. "You had the  _kids_  help you!?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Michael," he scolds, looking down at the board again, "There's a tile on here that says  _'Handjob in a movie theater.'_ "

"Oh shut up, the grandkids are all too young to read or understand what blowjobs are. Don't get your British trousers in a twist."

"I don't mean the grandkids! I mean, you let Barbara, Kara, and Chris see this!?"

"Yeah, who cares?"

"I don't want our children knowing about our rambunctious sex life, Michael!"

"What are you even talking about? They thought it was awesome. Barbara even high-fived me. They aren't kids anymore, Gav."

"Well, I bloody know that! But they're still  _our_  kids," he states grumpily, "They're our babies."

"Our  _babies_  are all married and have children of their own. They obviously know about sex."

"I don't want them to. They're still infants to me."

"Oh please, they've probably already done some of the things on this board themselves."

"I doubt it. We were pretty wild and crazy when it came to stuff like that."

He ends the conversation there, not wanting Michael to be able to tease him with the reminder that their children are all grown up now and probably having lots of sexual intercourse of their own. Just the thought makes him shudder and want to scoop his babies up into his arms.

Why can't babies just stay babies?

He shakes the thought out of his head, and instead looks down to study the tiles on the game board, having to squint or lean forward in order to make out what some of the longer ones say.

_Get engaged._

_Get married._

_Buy a house._

_First anniversary._

Some of them are as simple as that, just basic life moments that almost every elderly couple has gone through.

Unfortunately, not all of them are so generic or innocent.

_Lose Kara in a grocery store._

_Blowjob behind 7/11._

_Lose a fight with the skunk in our backyard._

_Almost adopt a five foot long snake._

Every tile is placed in perfect order as to when the event has happened, literally making it a huge board game of their life together.

They each have their own individual stories, and they all make Gavin want to laugh. And to avoid sappily going down memory lane and crying from the sentiments of it all, he just calls his husband an idiot for putting so much work and thought into such a silly little joke.

It's the kind of idea Gavin would expect middle aged soccer mom's to share on their Pinterest accounts and completely girl out over. Something that he would say is seriously lame if it had been made by anybody other than Michael.

He's probably not going to admit it out loud, but he  _really_  likes it. In the same way that a child will draw you something and you genuinely feel touched that they would go through the trouble of making it for you. Maybe he's always just had a soft spot for both children and Michael though.

It's cheesy, and silly, but his husband has clearly put a lot of work into it. Sure, it's meant to just be a joke, but he can sense the underlying sentiment behind it.

Michael's right, they won't be around forever. Their lives will end at some point, and there's a great chance that it won't be together. One of them may be left alone, with only memories and funeral arrangements to sort through.

It's nice to have moments like these, where they're able to acknowledge that it will happen one day, and instead of curse or fear it, they can laugh and turn it into some kind of silly joke.

If Michael ends up being the first to bite the dust, Gavin hopes that this will be the fond memory that's burned into his brain during what will be the hardest point in his life.

And if it's the reverse, and he dies first, then he wants to give Michael as many happy moments to look back on as he can.

Losing somebody isn't easy, but happy memories are the best thing to turn to when suffering with lost. Although Gavin knows that even just the idea of losing Michael is enough to destroy him, he's happy to create these memories now to help get through that tough time if it comes.

Maybe he's not so unwilling to admit his admiration of the present.

"I love it," he gives his husband a genuine smile, "I  _really_  do. Thank you."

Michael scowls, but it's hard to miss the blush coloring his cheeks. "Shut up, it's practically a gag gift."

"I still love it. You can't stop me from loving it."

"I'm never making you anything ever again."

"This board is going to be framed and hung up on our wall."

"No it's not."

"Right above our bed."

"Gavin."

"So that we can always see it."

Michael can hold it back anymore, and laughs freely. Gavin can't help but join in, taking the time to admire the sight of his husband being so naturally happy and carefree.

"I really love you, you know," he says, their giggles dying down in fear of being too loud.

"I love you too," Michael's smile turns fond, amusement still bubbling inside of him, "More than you could ever know."

Gavin just gives him a toothy grin in response, before clasping his hands together and looking back down at the board. "So! Shall we play?"

"I didn't make it for us to play. I made it just for something silly and cute to reminisce with."

"Well, too bad, because I want to play. Do you have the cars and the little plastic peg people?"

"Yeah, but we let the younger kids scribble all over those. Gave them something to do, ya'know?"

"It's perfect, I wouldn't want them any other way."

"Dibs on red car!" Michael announces, snatching the tiny plastic vehicle from the box.

Gavin lets out a laugh, the childhood nostalgia making him giddy with excitement. "Dibs on green!"

The next hour is spent playing the board game together, often stopping to reminisce over a memory one will bring forth, fight over the rules, or just because they're laughing too hard at their own silly inside jokes.

The cars are stained with marker, the game itself is covered in scribblings and the younger children's attempts to write their own names, there's glitter glue dried in clumps sporadically around the board, and it still smells briefly of sharpie. Even the tiles themselves are filled with sexual innuendos, silly inside jokes, ridiculous memories, and puns (courtesy of their eldest daughter.)

But Gavin's never loved a gift from his husband more.


End file.
